Chapter 3 - The Safehouse
The safehouse was located deep in the wooded hills outside the city—an old stone estate surrounded by iron gates and thermal cameras. For the next forty-eight hours, the mansion turned into a fortress. Doctors and nurses brought in under strict confidentiality monitored Claire’s vitals while Vincent sequestered himself in the mahogany study with Frank and Danny.
The digital logs pulled from Walter’s phone led to an encrypted server housed in a shell corporation downtown.
"It's routed through three different offshore nodes," Danny reported, tapping away at a laptop on the mahogany desk. "But we managed to trace the ping back to a physical landline inside our own downtown logistics office. Boss... it's Marcus."
Vincent didn't look up from his glass of scotch. Marcus Vance had been his chief financial officer and second-in-command for over a decade. A man whose children Vincent had paid to send to Ivy League universities. A man who had stood beside him at his wedding to Claire.
"Marcus has been skimming our primary accounts and feeding intelligence to the Moretti family," Vincent said slowly, the ice in his glass clinking against the crystal. "And he knew about Claire because he was the one who processed the initial payroll for the Magnolia Grill when her alias was generated three years ago. He kept tabs on her the whole time."
"Why didn't he kill her?" Frank asked.
"Because a dead ex-wife makes me angry," Vincent replied, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. "A pregnant ex-wife hiding in plain sight makes me vulnerable. He wanted to use her as leverage to force me to hand over the North American ports during the summit next week."
Upstairs, the bedroom door creaked open. Claire walked down the grand staircase, her face pale but resolute. Despite the protests of the private physician, she had refused to stay in bed. She wore a simple linen dress provided by the estate staff, her hair falling softly around her shoulders.
Vincent looked up as she entered the study. He stood immediately, a subtle shift in his posture showing his instinctive need to protect her.
"You should be resting," Vincent said.
"I've spent eight months resting and running," Claire said, walking right up to the desk. "If Marcus knows I'm here, this house won't be safe for long. You're wasting time trying to protect me while your empire is being ripped apart from the inside."
"My empire can burn to the ground for all I care," Vincent answered quietly. "The only thing that matters right now is you and that child."
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Claire looked into his eyes, searching for the ruthless mafia boss she had fled from. Instead, she saw the man she had fallen in love with years ago—exhausted, fiercely protective, and utterly devoted.
"Then prove it," Claire whispered. "Let's draw Marcus out."
